


Spinner

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Volga joined the allied forces for one thing only, and he won’t see it confined to a bottle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Technically non-plot spoilers if you haven’t unlocked the Great Fairy weapon yet? (But now you know it exists so you’re already spoiled, sorry.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He has to admit—and can, now that he’s on their side—that Zelda’s forces aren’t so weak as he once thought. He’d even say he’s _impressed_ with a few of them—a very small, select few, both of which wear green hoods over blond hair, and one of those impresses him far more so than the other. Others, he spends half their battles rescuing, and it puts him in a foul mood when he finally returns to the central keep after wrenching bokoblins off a heavy goron that smells to him like food. 

He races his way across the sand in his humanoid form—it makes it easier to knock enemies aside without endangering his own forces. There are definitely times when instinct calls to crush a stray gaggle of Hylian soldiers, but he manages to hold himself in check more and more. When he swerves around an enormous boulder and into full view of the central keep, his armoured boots slide to a halt. 

When he’d left, the lights glowed blue across the desert sun, the squared-off area comprised mostly of allied troops and the odd, quickly-falling monster. Now a mob of moblins have invaded everything, and more importantly, a great, towering, laughing witch hovers above them all, her vile claws wrapped around a glass contraption.

Inside, crushed tightly in on himself, is the one warrior Volga came here to serve beside. Link’s little hands press at the rounded walls, legs bent in the air and shoes scuffing the sides, long scarf pooled around him. The creature pays no mind to him, instead holding his prison high out of the way and idly smashing the lesser beings at her feet. Volga senses seem to slip away, eyesight honing in with the power of his true dragon strength. Across all the distance, the wavering flicker of heat, and the thick glass between, he sees the dizziness on Link’s face. Link must be running out of air. He must be frightened of the height. Of what she’ll do to him after. Why she’s even bottled him so. The possibilities whir in Volga’s head in a parade of horrifying nightmares. There are no captains nearby to help—Zelda, the undeserving holder of all Link’s loyalty, is nowhere to be found. Impa has evidently left the central keep to Link’s care. Volga is the only allied witness to this monstrosity, and with a roar loud enough to shake the ground, he leaps into his true form. Wings of fire spring from his back, his helmet sliding down to mingle with his bones, everything stretching, twisting, until he’s nearly the size of Link’s impudent captor.

Volga surges towards her in a tornado of red, obliterating all life in the base in his ardor—bokoblins and soldiers alike are sent flying out the sides. Volga only rages on, meaning to tear through the witch’s flesh, but she dissipates into twinkling light and falling leaves. The glass around Link shatters, and Volga quickly circles back to catch him before he hits the ground, sweeping past the keep and up against the side of one rocky cliff. When Volga warps back into his humanoid form, he leaves the sand blazing in his wake, as though any monsters would dare approach him after his display.

Link sways on his feet. He’s always been _strong_ , the most extraordinary of all the warriors Volga’s ever fought, but clearly he’s been caught of guard. Volga grabs his shoulders to steady him. Then Link shakes his head and winces, little shards of glass tumbling off his cap and out of his bangs. Volga quickly combs them away, careful to clear Link’s face and infinitely pleased that he doesn’t look cut. If anything, his fair skin seems to glow all the brighter in his freedom, and Volga takes that moment just to breathe him: how truly _beautiful_ he is, freshly rescued from certain defeat.

Yet when he opens his blue eyes, they crinkle to fix Volga in a glare. Volga nearly takes a step back in his surprise.

The little ball of light that always squawks at Link’s ear comes whizzing out from behind him, plowing right into Volga’s face—it hits him in the nose, and he reels back with a snarl. 

_“What did you do that for?”_ It buzzes angrily, poking at Volga’s side again, but this time he dodges. _“You assaulted the Great Fairy!”_

“I beg your pardon—”

 _“You ruined Link’s victory, you—you—!”_ It can’t seem to find a word strong enough. Volga only squints at the irritating creature. For Link’s sake, he resists the urge to send it flying. _“Now Link’s without a weapon!”_

 _That_ does concern him. Sure enough, when Volga jerks his gaze back to Link, he finds no sword anywhere. He even checks around the back, which makes Link twitch and turn with him—but there’s no sheath strung over Link’s shoulder. Why he would come to a battle without a sword, Volga doesn’t understand—he knows Link has some sort of _chosen one_ far stronger than the rest of them.

To Link alone, Volga growls, “That was foolish, to leave your sword behind.”

It’s the fairy that jabs into him again, fuming, _“Ohhhhh, YOU’RE foolish!”_

It does a quick circle back around Link, buzzes, _“I’ll try to find her and apologize—stay safe!”_ and then it’s rushing off, shooting right through Volga’s flames and back across the plain.

It takes a few minutes after it’s gone for the words to sink in and Volga to understand. He asks slowly, “That... that _thing_ was a weapon of some sort?”

Link only nods, as he’s prone to do in place of words. An instant pang of guilt sounds in Volga’s chest—not something he’s used to. He growls anyway, “She should not have treated you so poorly! You deserve better than to be caged and toted about like some kind of... of pet or property!” Just thinking about it gets his blood boiling again. Link looks at him oddly.

But after a few seconds of tense silence, Link seems to melt, and his shoulders loosen, the stern look slipping from his face. Maybe he understands that Volga was only trying to protect him. To care for him. The way none of these other ‘allies’ seem to...

Link looks down and shakes his head but says nothing. He still has no sword. The battle continues, though the sounds of it are far away. With gruff resignation, Volga passes over his own spear over, grunting, “Here. Use this.” Link’s head rises sharply, eyes widening. Volga has to thrust the spear pointedly forward before Link hesitantly takes it. He probably has no idea how endearing he looks when he acts like this: both innocent and armed. He shines with gratitude before he takes it more firmly, nodding and pulling it towards him. Volga always has his fire. He mutters, “I will fight in my true form for the rest of this battle, and when it is over... I will find some way to make it up to you.” He surprises himself when those words come out. But he means them.

Link finally dons a little smile. It’s a brave, honest grin that makes Volga’s heart clench in his chest. He can’t stop himself from leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Link’s forehead, pleased when Link doesn’t pull away.

Then they’re standing square again, and the shrill whine of a bokoblin horde draws them back to the world. Link instantly snaps into a fighter’s stance, Volga’s spear clutched in his hands like it was always meant to be there.

Volga leaps back into the air and rages off to destroy any who dare challenge his precious hero.


End file.
